Drones, a Poem by Ed Meek


You can barely hear the dial-tone

that hums through the wires of your brain.

It is the call of drones, buzzing as they fly

on their secret missions

known only to those

who man the remote controls,

striking the keys to send

unmanned Hawks, Ravens, and Shadows

deep into Pakistan, Yemen, Syria, and Somalia.

We have absolute confidence

in our sources. Our President

is in command, making

the hard decisions. Later

he falls asleep to the monotone hum

in the back of his mind,

while Pakistanis, herding sheep,

look up, straining to hear

the unnerving buzz

of mechanical birds.



 

Ed Meek has had poems published in The Sun, North Dakota Quarterly, and Plume. His new book, High Tide, came out last summer.